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The batman, a Mr. Harris, was a young man probably closer to Margaret’s age than Sarah’s.

He appeared to be a sharp and intelligent young man, as well as patient.

Sarah insisted on seeing every article of clothing that Christopher owned.

The linens were in good condition; she merely instructed Harris to starch the collars with a recipe she’d learned from her friend Beau Brummell.

Some dandies’ collars were so high that they were unable to turn their heads from side to side.

Such ostentatiousness, she knew intuitively, would make Christopher uncomfortable.

But he could be stylish without being extreme.

She also showed Harris how to tie Christopher’s cravat in the style of the scholar. Her mother had tied her father’s cravats, and after she went missing, Sarah had taken over for Mama until Papa had left for London. The tying of neckcloths was an art.

“Before the Season, we will have to come up with a unique style of your own, Christopher. All the dandies will then ask you what it is called, and we can invent a name, or you can simply reply in a haughty voice, ‘I call it a style of my own.’”

Harris chuckled and then clapped a hand over his mouth. The edges of Christopher’s reluctant lips quirked up. For a handsome man, he was entirely too serious, and smiles softened his rather rugged features.

Her new husband was not smiling when Sarah insisted that he try on all of his waistcoats and coats.

The waistcoats fit well, and Sarah only suggested switching around which coats they were paired with.

The coats, however, were too loose on his muscular frame.

A fashionable man’s jacket was contoured purposely to his figure, and he would not be able to take it off by himself because it fit so precisely.

Christopher could easily shrug himself out of his coats, which would not do at all.

A man of high birth could get away with a great deal in regard to fashion, but Sarah’s husband had to be careful.

Too ornate and he would be mocked for trying to ape his betters.

Not stylish enough and he would be scorned for his common background.

The ton delighted in tearing one another down.

She would give them no opportunity to treat Christopher poorly.

Or his little sisters. Another reason to put off bringing Deborah out into London Society.

Her connection to Sarah and her fortune would give her one chance—not more than one—and Sarah couldn’t be certain that her new sister-in-law would not squander it with her headstrong and obstinate behavior.

“Harris, will you bring Miss Mills up to us and have her fetch my sewing kit? I believe a few well-placed darts would suffice to make Mr. Moulton’s coat presentable until a tailor can be hired to bring them all in.”

Christopher easily pulled off his jacket. “Must I wear my coats like a second skin?”

Raising her eyebrows, she shook her head slightly. “If poor Mr. Harris is not yanking for all he is worth, your coat is not fitting well enough.”

Her bridegroom made a pouty face, and she chuckled as Harris left the room to get Nelly.

Her friend and lady’s maid helped Sarah sew the darts into Christopher’s coat.

They were both excellent seamstresses. Sarah couldn’t resist adding a couple of furbelows to the garment as well, from her sewing collection.

She’d learned that these extra little touches made the garment unique, and other people assumed she’d spent a great deal of money on her original wardrobe.

Harris helped Christopher tug on the newly tailored coat. Sarah walked around him and smoothed out the material over his shoulders. A warmth formed in her belly as she touched his muscles. Her husband was a very handsome man. And even more attractive when dressed to the nines.

“Now that you are presentable, I am going to need at least a half hour to make myself so.”

“More like an hour,” Nelly chimed in.

Giggling, Sarah nodded. “True. We will also need to see that my new sisters-in-law’s dresses are up to standard. Harris, will you have a message sent to them? And, Christopher, can you have a carriage called in an hour and a half? I need to introduce you all to the neighborhood.”

***

Unsurprisingly, Margaret was easily guided.

Nelly rearranged her curls so that more of them framed her lovely oval face.

The young lady even allowed Sarah to add the slightest bit of rouge to her cheeks and carmine to her lips.

Heavy cosmetics had gone entirely out of fashion, but a clever woman could still use a little here and there to highlight her natural features.

Margaret was a lovely young woman, but her paleness caused her to appear a bit washed out.

Her white dress and celestial-blue pelisse were of the very finest materials and well-made, if not a bit basic.

Sarah added some braided lace to the shoulders and a few tassels to the pelisse.

She loved how a good tassel dangled. To complete the look, Sarah lent her new sister-in-law a pair of pearl earrings.

Deborah did not wish for Nelly to fix her hair, even though an entire section had fallen in the back. Nor did she want Sarah to add extra details to her pelisse to make it more customized and stylish. One worthy of a London modiste.

“Our old headmistress, Miss Mason, said that only a shallow young lady is obsessed with her appearance.”

Sarah suppressed her smile. “Quite a set down, Deborah. However, my mother, a countess , taught me that a person’s first impression of you can dictate your entire relationship and to always put your most polished slipper forward.

Rarely do people in Society bother to get to know the young woman inside the dress—shallow or deep.

Taking control of your appearance and how others perceive you is one of the few powers allotted to ladies.

I would not forsake it for a trite principle. ”

Deborah huffed and said in a small voice, “I suppose Miss Mills might be able to repair my hair, and if you would like to add silly little hanging things to my pink pelisse, I care not.”

“Come sit over here, miss,” Nelly said with a wry smile on her lips.

Sarah did not add “silly little hanging things” to Deborah’s pink pelisse.

She did, however, add some blonde lace on the bodice and sleeves in a vinelike pattern.

It was quite the loveliest creation Sarah had made in many a month.

Deborah, whose hair was no longer falling in the back, turned up her nose at it. “I suppose it will have to do.”

“Deb, you are being unconscionably rude,” Margaret said, blushing for her sister’s lack of manners.

“One might even say shallow ,” Nelly quipped and then curtsied as if she hadn’t just called the daughter of the house a name.

Sarah pinched her lips together tightly to keep in her smile. How she loved her old friend’s fiery personality!

Deborah’s jaw dropped. “How dare a servant speak to me thus! I shall see you dismissed.”

Folding her arms, Sarah shook her head. “You shall not, Deborah, for you are not the mistress of the house. I am. And Miss Mills is my friend and my lady’s maid.

She may speak freely in my presence, as I have allowed you to do.

However, I do not recommend that you behave similarly on our visits today.

As I have already said, you will not get a second chance to make a good first impression in the village. When in doubt, do not open your mouth.”

The young girl gaped like a fish. Sarah supposed that she had not been forced to obey many people in her life. Not even the sage Miss Mason. Sarah did not wish to break her spirit, but good manners were fashionable in every class.

“Now, my lovely sisters-in-law, I need to dress myself. I shall meet you all in the carriage in a half hour.”

Margaret took Deborah’s arm and tugged her out of the room.

Once the door closed, Nelly said, “That Miss Deborah’s going to be a handful, Sarah.”

Sighing, Sarah held up her palms. “I am going to need both hands and yours too.”

Nelly and Sarah used their four hands between them to change Sarah into her newest day gown, rose-colored pelisse, and trimmed-to-match chip bonnet.

A large rose-colored plume gave it height and presence.

Sarah carefully made up her face whilst her lady’s maid convinced her wayward hair to form a low chignon and extra curls in the right directions.

Nelly made the arranging of hair an art.

“Remember what your mother always said, Sarah,” Nelly said, putting her hands on Sarah’s shoulders as she sat in front of her vanity and mirror. “A lady is only as beautiful as she believes herself to be.”

Taking a deep breath and then exhaling, Sarah got to her feet and left the room.

She did not fear for her own acceptance in the neighborhood.

She’d long reigned as the highest-ranking lady, the person whom others came to for attention and approval.

And she had always tried to be gracious and welcoming, for her mother had another maxim: Kindness is always in fashion .

She could only hope that the stanch matrons of Eden society would be equally gracious and welcoming to the Moulton sisters.

She did not fear for Margaret, but she was terrified for Deborah.